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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287953">Rewind, Refresh, Retry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzball457/pseuds/Fuzzball457'>Fuzzball457</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>K-Pop One Shots [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Breaking Up &amp; Making Up, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Break Up, Wen Jun Hui | Jun-centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:35:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzball457/pseuds/Fuzzball457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So Minghao’s here. Did you know that?” Jeonghan asks, staring blankly as Junhui chokes on his champagne, coughing up little bits of the cookie he hadn’t quite finished chewing. </p><p>It's been eight months since Minghao and Junhui broke up. Running into each other again is inevitable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>K-Pop One Shots [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rewind, Refresh, Retry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know this is a horribly overused idea and we all know where this is going, but I just wanted to give a go, okay? I've read a lot of SVT, but this is my first time writing. Most of the members play a minor role other than Junhui &amp; Minghao, but I didn't want to cram them in just for the sake of getting their names in. Also, if you didn't see the tags, this is a non-famous AU.</p><p>I wrote this as a present for my other half, Jessie, who is really soft for Jun and I'm really soft for Minghao so here we are (though let's be honest, how can you not love all of these lovely crackheads?). All my love on your birthday &lt;3 I wrote this angsty/fluffy thing to deal with how much I miss you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So Minghao’s here. Did you know that?” Jeonghan asks, staring blankly as Junhui chokes on his champagne, coughing up little bits of the cookie he hadn’t quite finished chewing.</p><p>It’s been a good year for the company and it’s obvious in the morale. It’s late in the evening, though still a few hours from ringing in the New Year, but there’s energy and gaiety in the air as people move about. The lobby of the building is massive, more of an atrium really, with a glass ceiling three stories up and an elegant staircase wrapping along the wall. It’s the best way to start the day, Junhui always thought when he arrived to work, crossing the sand-colored flooring and taking in the orange accents. There’s lot of greenery too, contrasting with the cream walls and making the space feel vibrant and fresh. Even now, with stars overhead and silvery tinsel draped all of the place, it feels invigorating. A few of the nearby conference rooms are propped open, inviting employees to the impressive spreads of catered hors d'oeuvres. Junhui has very little shame in by passing cucumber sandwiches, mini sliders, and elaborately topped crackers to go right to the dessert section, where he’d scooped up three cookies and a chocolate dipped strawberry. Rich cookies taste good, okay? Who was he to pass up a chance to try all three flavors? But he might detour back later to get scallops and shrimp. It’s all a matter of priorities.</p><p>“What?” he finally says, voice still weak as his inflamed throat screams in pain. He glances around for some water, but finds nothing.</p><p>“But surely you figured he’d be here? He works at the same company.”</p><p>And of course Junhui knows that. In fact he’d recited that very same fact to Jeonghan eight months ago when he was listing reasons he ought to immediately leave the country forever following his break up with Minghao.</p><p>“It’s a huge company, Junnie,” Jeonghan had said with a role of his eyes. “And you work in different departments. You’ll probably never run in to each other.”</p><p>And he had been right. As a stylist at the entertainment company, Minghao spent most of his time on location, going from set to set, or buried in the basement, updating wardrobes and, when he had time, designing or altering pieces himself. It was lightyears away from the sixth floor where Junhui worked with the rest of the PR department.</p><p>So, no. He hasn’t run into Minghao in the last eight months other than once catching a glimpse of Minghao’s back as he disappeared down the stairs.</p><p>“Where—” He has to stop to clear his aching throat. “Where is he?”</p><p>Jeonghan smirks for some reason and turns to point a finger up to the third floor. There’s a dozen or so people up there, milling along the balcony that overlooks the atrium, and it takes Junhui a moment to locate Minghao. How the hell Jeonghan had even spotted him up there in the first place is beyond him.</p><p>The thing is, it’s not like Junhui wouldn’t have come if he had known Minghao would be here. The reality is, some part of him had to know Minghao would most likely be here. It’s a company party, after all, for a company they both work for.</p><p>It’s just that, potentially seeing Minghao required a level of antecedent panic in advance. He could have panicked <em>properly</em>, with slews of text messages to Wonwoo or Soonyoung about why he shouldn’t come to the party, why he should quit his job, why he should move to Timbuctoo, probably a handful more outfit changes than he made as he was deciding what to wear, and some imaginary run throughs of potential conversations. He’d still be here, standing next to Jeonghan as the older pointed out Minghao’s presence, but at least he’d have run through the mental prep necessary ahead of time.</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t see what the big deal is,” Jeonghan is saying, dragging Junhui back to the present. “Break ups happen. It’s messy, sure, but it’s been almost a year. Surely you’ve both fucked it out of your systems by now.”</p><p>“It wasn’t—it’s not—I mean—”</p><p>Jeonghan smirks at him and takes another sip from his own flute of champagne.</p><p>Before Junhui can get anything more coherent together, Jisoo appears at his side, slotting under Jeonghan’s arm easily and offering a polite wave. If Jeonghan and Jisoo are here, then Seungcheol can’t be far. For all the shit they gave Minghao and Juhui for being codependent, those three were always attached at the hip.</p><p>“Are you having a good evening?” Jisoo asks, nibbling on a piece of cheese sans cracker. Junhui can respect that.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, I—”</p><p>“Minghao’s here,” Jeanghan says to Jisoo, cutting Junhui off. Jisoo lets out a little “oh!” as he falters, clearly unsure how sensitive Junhui might be to the situation.</p><p>“Have you, uh…spoken? With him?” Unlike Jeonghan, Jisoo’s gaze is sympathetic and curious. Junhui appreciates it, especially since Jisoo was always little closer to Minghao.</p><p>It hasn’t been easy on their friends, Junhui’s sure, being as intermingled as they are. It’s one of the few things he and Minghao agreed upon: not letting their drama infect and divide the group. They never get together as a big group anyway—it’s simply not possible with such differing schedules—so it’s been relatively easy for Junhui to hang out with his friends without having to think about Minghao. There’s a few he doesn’t see anymore, primarily Mingyu and Seokmin, that he only really knew through Minghao, but on the whole, he’s kept up relationships with everyone.</p><p>“No, I haven’t had a chance,” he says, hoping to let it drop at that. He doesn’t know if he should, if he should seek out Minghao and try to force a conversation. What’s left to say? He’s still sorry that things ended poorly, and he’s sure Minghao is too, but their fundamental differences were the same. Their relationship was something special that Junhui treasured. That’s why he had wanted more, to take steps, to move in, to think about marriage. Minghao hadn’t wanted that. He wanted things to stay as they were. That’s all there was to it. There wasn’t hatred, no bitter resentments burrowing in or screaming matches late into the night. Just tired rehashes of the same argument and an eventual agreement that they would never be on the same page.</p><p>“Maybe you can still be friends?” Jisoo offers tentatively, eyes wide and supportive. His hope makes Junhui’s heart miss a beat. He’s lucky to be surrounded by such caring people.</p><p>“Yeah, maybe you can be friends who fuck,” Jeonghan adds. Some of the people who surround him are more caring than others.</p><p>He glances back up at Minghao. He’s talking animatedly with two or three people, one of whom might be Seungkwan and one of whom is absolutely Mingyu based on the height. Almost everyone is wearing some variation of a classic black suit ensemble, but Minghao is wearing a dark purple blazer. There’s probably a dozen other tiny personalized touches as well that Junhui can’t see from here.</p><p>He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss Minghao.</p><p>“Maybe,” he says absently.</p><p>A hand touches his elbow, bringing him back to the ground floor. Jisoo smiles at him and squeezes his arm. “Well, whatever you decide, remember that you’re here to enjoy yourself.”</p><p>Junhui nods and departs, offering a vague excuse of needing more alcohol. He spends the next hour moving around the lobby, striking up small chat and trying not to let his mind wander. He glances up only once but Minghao is gone from the balcony. He tells himself to leave it at that. He doesn’t need to go looking. He doesn’t need to ask if anyone’s seen him. He’s not here for that. Jisoo is right, he’s here to have fun.</p><p>Soonyoung finds him at some point, dragging him to dance. No one’s <em>dancing </em>per se, at least not anything compared to the moves Soonyoung starts to bust out, but there’s a cloud of people wiggling aimlessly by the speakers. Junhui’s never had a problem being a little silly, even at work, so he forces himself to be present in the moment, to keep his mind on what Soonyoung is saying and the way the bass beats in his chest.</p><p>He’s almost managed to forget Minghao’s illusive presence all together by the time his three flutes of champagne force him to abandon Soonyoung for the bathroom. He spots Jihoon as he goes and waves. He’ll have to stop by after to talk about next Wednesday’s meeting. Jihoon’s not technically on the roster, but Junhui thinks he should probably come as a representative of the production department.</p><p>He really needs to work on fleshing out the agenda for the meeting, he thinks as he washes his hands. Lost in his head as he is, it takes him a moment to realize someone is staring at him.</p><p>He glances up and there Minghao is, meeting his gaze in the mirror from the doorway.</p><p>Something fierce blooms in his chest, stealing his breath and making heat race along the back of his neck. If he wasn’t worried about suddenly sweating through his shirt, he’d rip his jacket off in a second. Instead, he flicks off the tap, moving with weirdly telegraphed movements like Minghao might fly out of the bathroom at any moment.</p><p>He turns slowly, nearly rubbing the paper towel to a pulp between his hands as he delays. Minghao is just standing there in the doorway, not taking a step towards the urinals or towards the door. Did he know Junhui was in here? Was it a coincidence?</p><p>“Hey,” Junhui says, holding up his hand awkwardly like he’s swearing an oath. Why wave? What’s wrong with him? They’d spoken a handful of times in the two weeks after their break-up, agreeing that they both needed space to recalibrate. Junhui wonders if Minghao expected the space to stretch on for months like it has, creating such a chasm that it became too late to reach out in any kind of casual, let’s be friends way. Junhui never expected it would be like this.</p><p>“Hi,” Minghao says quietly. His make-up, the silver accessories glittering along his ears and fingers – all of it is spot on. Junhui feels boring in his white button down and black blazer, even if he had opted for black skinny jeans instead of trousers. He looks like every other office shmuck, he’s sure.</p><p>“How…how have you been?”</p><p>Minghao only blinks at first, as startled by the question as Junhui is to find it tumbling out of his mouth. But then he nods, pulling on a polite smile. A smile for strangers, for coworkers. “Good. I’ve been good. Busy. And yourself?”</p><p>Busy is good. He genuinely doesn’t want to hear that the younger has been cooped up at home, miserable and depressed from their break up. Minghao always did like to cope with things by pushing himself into his work. Junhui can only hope Mingyu dragged him home on occasion, or made sure to bring him food and water. Seokmin’s newer to Minghao’s department, he’s barely more than an intern—or he was—but Junhui can imagine him speaking up in that unobtrusive, sunshine-y way of his, trying to nudge Minghao to look after himself while working.</p><p>He’s glad Minghao has friends like that.</p><p>“Yeah, me too. I’ve been…good.”</p><p>It’s not a lie, per se. He’s walking, talking, generally functioning well. He still sees his friends and enjoys his work. There was a week or two, right after it all went down, when everything felt too hard. It had felt like his chest was constantly in danger of caving in. But time had went on, forcing Junhui to do the same.</p><p>So he’s here, staring at Minghao and feeling that familiar yearning opening wide inside.</p><p>What hurts the most is knowing that they were a really good couple. A <em>really good</em> couple. They could have easily spent the rest of their lives together if it weren’t for that one fundamental misstep. Maybe that’s what makes it the most difficult. There’s no anger to fall back on. All of this time, all of their circuitous arguments, and he’s never understood why Minghao didn’t want to move forward with him.</p><p>Minghao shifts on his feet. “It’s, uh, a good party. Impressive decorations.”</p><p>“Yeah. Have you tried any of the food? It’s good,” Junhui adds quickly, eager to grab onto a thread of conversation.</p><p>Good, good, everything is so very good apparently. When did making small talk get so hard? Junhui’s a nice guy, sociable even, so why is this far harder than any interview he’s ever faced?</p><p>“That’s actually why I’m here,” Minghao says with a small chuckle. For a moment Junhui panics, thinking maybe Minghao came in here to deal with severe diarrhea or maybe even vomiting brought on by a bad scallop or that aggressive looking Szechuan sauce and he’s just been standing there in discomfort this whole time trying to get Junhui to leave…but no, thank god, Minghao holds up a hand to show a sticky yellow sauce on the back of his hand. “Chan accidentally dripped it on me, so I just came to wash up. He says it’s yummy though, some kind of mustard thing in the wraps, I think?”</p><p>“Oh, okay,” Junhui says. That makes sense. That makes a lot more sense than Minghao stalking him into the bathroom to corner him into making small talk about how good everything is.</p><p>“So, um…?” Minghao just kind of stares at him and oh! Oh. Junhui’s standing in front of both of the sinks. He’s in the way.</p><p>“Sorry!” he says, voice coming out way too loud and cheerful for the small space. He moves aside quickly, unable to stop some weird, half-breed form of laughter from coming out of his mouth, like the whole situation is just too gosh darn funny.</p><p>Any hopes of having a conversation with Minghao, of reestablishing a friendship, fly down the drain (as there are no windows in the bathroom) and Junhui beats a hasty exit for the door. It’s fine like it is. He misses Minghao, sure, but he’s got good friends. Some things are better left in the past.</p><p>“Have a good night, Hao—!” He calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, barely biting off the ‘<em>HaoHao’</em> that almost slipped out.</p><p>Minghao calls something back, probably similar sentiments, but Junhui is already out of the door.</p><p>He makes a speed loop towards the alcohol, grabbing himself another flute of champagne, and grabs the first familiar face he can find: Hansol.</p><p>Hansol offers a quick good-bye and a wave to whoever he was talking to as Junhui carts him into the emptiest meeting room he can find. There’s a handful of other people in there, but they’re all deep in conversation too and there’s enough space by the far window that Junhui feels comfortable planting Hansol there and blurting out, “I just made an idiot out of myself in the bathroom in front of Minghao.”</p><p>Hansol’s eyebrows creep up. He reaches out and takes a deep swig of Junhui’s champagne before passing it back and saying, “Define ‘made an idiot out of myself in the bathroom’ because that could mean a lot of things.”</p><p>“I was standing in front of the sinks.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And Minghao needed to use the sinks.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And…that’s it.”</p><p>Hansol’s face does that thing it does sometimes, where his eyes narrow in the slightest and his nose flares just a bit and he kind of glances around like maybe he’s in The Office and there’s a hidden camera he can look at to say ‘this guy, am I right?’</p><p>Somehow Junhui gets this look a lot.</p><p>“That’s it?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Jeez, man, here I was thinking you accidentally shit your pants or fell face first into a urinal or something. You’re telling me you’re panicking because you didn’t get out of the way fast enough?”</p><p>A low keening sound, one that Junhui will probably have to publically deny later when Hansol undoubtedly tells everyone, escapes his mouth. “You don’t understand!” He’s not whining, okay, he’s not. “I looked so stupid and it was already so awkward!”</p><p>“Who cares if it was awkward? Who isn’t awkward with their ex?” Hansol steals another sip of his champagne, savoring it on his tongue before returning the glass to Junhui’s hand.</p><p>Junhui’s always appreciated that about the younger, the unflappable way he stares people down and tells them they’re an idiot to their face. He’s not mean, just honest and unconcerned with being so.</p><p>That’s not to say it does anything to ease the jitters that are quickly getting out of hand in Junhui’s stomach though. Where’s Jisoo’s sympathetic hand-petting when you need it?</p><p>“I don’t want to be awkward with him.”</p><p>“Who cares, dude? Like when will you ever even see him again?”</p><p>The thought shouldn’t make him as sad as it does. It’s been almost a year, <em>a year</em>, since a mutually-agreed upon break up. He has absolutely no business being sad about it still.</p><p>Before he can think of a proper response, Jihoon pops up next them. He scowls up at Junhui. “Why are you being a dick to Minghao?”</p><p>“What?” he says, mind scrambling to recall if something else had happened earlier, as though maybe, somehow, he’d inexplicably gone up to Minghao, thrown a drink on him and run away before promptly forgetting the entire thing. </p><p>“Wow,” Hansol says, eyebrows raised at Junhui, “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said blocking the sink was a big deal.”</p><p>“Minghao said I was being a dick?” Junhui asks. He can’t help but feel a bit crushed that Minghao would say such a thing.</p><p>“No, of course not. What <em>Minghao said</em> was that he tried to ask you to get a drink with him and you sprinted—<em>sprinted—</em>away. <em>I’m saying </em>that seems like kind of a dick move. He’s too nice and lovesick to call you a dick.”</p><p>Junhui chokes a bit on his spit. “I think, maybe, lovesick is overselling it a bit,” he croaks out. Minghao is a lot of things: kind, generous, thoughtful. But he’s not pathetic or pitiful. He has enough pride to know when to put himself first and when to move on. The thought of Xu Minghao, lovesick on the couch, weeping into a pint of ice cream is ludicrous. He probably sat down in the hours after their break up, carefully sorted through his thoughts and emotions, processed them and reflected on them in a way that would make any therapist proud, and returned to work the next day, already in the process of recovering and moving on. He’s just not the sort of person who has emotional blow outs over these sorts of things. He’s very in the present and all that. Change what you can and accept what you can’t. That sort of thing.</p><p>Junhui’s the one who needed the ice cream.</p><p>“Call it whatever you want,” Jihoon says with a roll of his eyes. He takes Junhui’s champagne glass, drains it, and returns it. “But obviously you two aren’t over each other, probably never will be since you both keep floating around like kicked puppies eight months later.”</p><p>Junhui frowns, a bit miffed at the suggestion that he wasn’t doing a good job coping. There had been bad days, of course, little moments that upended his whole mentality because it reminded him of Minghao in some way or another. But he’s not…depressed. He’s not stagnating or giving up. He still comes to work every day, puts in effort to take care of himself and his succulents, makes time to hang out and catch up with friends.</p><p>“Hey,” Hansol says softly, a hand come to rest on Junhui’s arm. “He doesn’t mean it like that. You’re not, like, failing as a person or whatever.”</p><p>“No, of course not,” Jihoon adds, face softening just the slightest around his eyes. “It just seems stupid to me. You guys were happy together. You’re intelligent, thoughtful people. Surely you can do better than this awkward, running out of the bathroom nonsense?”</p><p>“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “I didn’t realize he was trying to ask me to get a drink. Honestly, I was so keen to get out of there I didn’t realize he said anything at all.” If it’s true, though, that Minghao wanted to talk to him, he owes it to the other to make himself available. It’s the least he can do because no matter how much they fought, no matter how much time had passed, he never for one second stopped caring about the other. “Do you know where he is?”</p><p>“Last I saw him, he was chatting with Mingyu out front.”</p><p>Making up his mind, Junhui excuses himself. He grabs his coat and two hot chocolates before making his way out the glass entryway.</p><p>Sure enough, Minghao and Mingyu are standing on the sidewalk in front of the big concrete company sign. They’re both bundled up to their ears in padded jackets, shuffling slightly to keep warm as they chat, laughter passing easily between them. He almost stops and turns back, hesitant to interrupt, but Mingyu catches his eye over Minghao’s shoulder. He stares for just a moment, as though trying to suss out Junhui’s motivations, before holding up an arm to wave, as if anyone could accidentally miss the giant that is Mingyu in an otherwise empty entry way.</p><p>“Junnie! Long time no see!” He calls. Minghao glances over his shoulder. For a moment Junhui worries he might be actually mad about what happened earlier, but his worries dissipate almost immediately when the younger offers him a small smile. When has Minghao ever been anything but laid back about these sorts of things? It’s what makes him so easy to talk to.</p><p>“Junhui, hello again,” Minghao says as Junhui makes his way over to them.</p><p>“Hi,” he says back before immediately realizing the conundrum he’s walked in to. He glances down at the two steaming cups in his hands. Jihoon literally told him Mingyu was out here, why did he only bring two? He’s about to hand what would have been his own cup over to Mingyu and pretend he didn’t want any himself, when the other saves him the trouble.</p><p>“Sorry to rush off, Jun, but I was already on my way out. Wonwoo will kill me if I’m not home before the clock hits midnight. Good to see you, though!” Bundling his coat up tighter, Mingyu departs with a wave, barreling through the few inches of the snow on the ground to his car. Junhui has missed him. With Mingyu as one of Minghao’s childhood friends, Junhui felt like he didn’t have much claim to spending time or chatting with Mingyu after the break up. He was quite sure Mingyu probably hated him on principle, but it seems like that wasn’t the case. It feels good to reassure himself that someone he once counted as a friend doesn’t hold him in low esteem.</p><p>“May I?” Minghao asks with a polite smile, gesturing towards one of the cups.</p><p>“Oh, right! Yeah, of course!” Minghao drinks hot beverages the same way he used to a year ago: with a little sniff first to let the steam curl around his nose and add some color to his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed before taking a sip and humming appreciatively.</p><p>It makes Junhui want to cry just a bit.</p><p>“It’s the good stuff,” Minghao asseses. “Real cocoa.” He looks adorable buried in the halo of his furry hood. Once upon a time, Junhui would have tugged him close and buried his face right up next to Minghao’s, laughter and fur tickling his cheeks.</p><p>For now, he only has the view.</p><p>“Sorry for, uh, running out on you earlier. I didn’t realize you were trying to ask me something.”</p><p>Minghao giggles. “Jihoon found you I see.” Taking another sip, he gives a little shake of the head. “It’s really fine, I wasn’t upset or anything. I’ll admit I had hoped we wouldn’t be, you know, that couple, the one that got all awkward afterwards.”</p><p>“No, of course not,” he says, maybe too quickly. “We’re not that couple.”</p><p>Minghao hums an agreement, eyes on his cup. He’s cradling it between both hands, likely trying to keep his fingers warm. They should go inside, Junhui thinks. Minghao probably came out here to see Mingyu off, but there’s no reason to stay out here, freezing at half past eleven in the dead of winter. There’s something attractive about it though, something that keeps him from making the suggestion. Inside is warm, sure, but it’s also bright and loud. There’s people and decorations and excitement. All good things, but it’s not what he wants right now. Out here is still in that way only winter nights can be. The animals and the birds are silent, burrowed in from the cold, and there’s no traffic on the road. It’s just them.</p><p>“It has been a while though,” Minghao says quietly, eyes flicking up for just a second before returning to his cup. He gives it a little swirl and takes a sip. It’s an innocuous enough statement, but Junhui has known Minghao for years at this point. That little sliver of hurt, framed so carefully so as not to be overt or aggressive, is there all the same.</p><p>Minghao missed him too.</p><p>They were so good together. They bickered like an old couple often enough, but there was nothing like cooking dinner together or curling up on the couch, Minghao shoving his freezing toes under Junhui’s thighs just to make him shriek. To have someone who keeps you in their thoughts, always, is a blessing. It was in the little things, the way Minghao knew exactly which brand of peanut butter he preferred or the way they could look at each other across a crowded table and know exactly what the other was thinking.</p><p>“So why not move in? You practically lived at my place anyway.”</p><p>It isn’t until Minghao fumbles his cup in response, nearly dropping into the snow, that he realizes how much of a non sequitur that was. He got so lost in his thoughts, he forgot they were only tentatively beginning to broach the idea of friendship. Maybe those glasses of champagne hit him a little more than he thought.</p><p>“Uh, sorry?” he offers as Minghao just continues to stare at him. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” He scratches at the back of his neck. And now he’s made it awkward again. Maybe they should have gone back inside where they could have chatted about any number of menial things. There’s precious few distractions out here.</p><p>“No, it’s alright. It’s not like you didn’t ask me the same thing twenty times in the last month of our relationship.”</p><p>Junhui feels the sting, unable to stop himself from frowning. That’s a little unfair. It’s not like he was hounding after Minghao all hours of the day. Their arguments weren’t one sided. He tried to respect all the “I need more time to think” and the “I’m not ready yet” that had been thrown his way.</p><p>“You never really gave me an answer,” he counters, immediately regretting the sharpness in his voice. That was the problem too. Minghao could be fuming mad and he’d just get colder and colder in his responses until his tone was dry as the desert and his eyes hard as stone. But Junhui would get choked up. His anger was wet and painful. There’d be voice cracks and snapping. It made him feel like he was always the one escalating things into an argument, even though Minghao was just as prone to whipping out barbed words.</p><p>Minghao watches him for a moment, their clouds of breath swirling together and evaporating into the night. His face is closed off completely. Junhui has no idea what Minghao’s thinking anymore.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Junhui finally says, wilting just a bit. “I didn’t come out here to fight with you, really.” Maybe if they walk away now there’s a chance they can move past this still.</p><p>Minghao seems to have different plans. “I don’t understand what the rush was. Why did we have to move in immediately? And don’t think I didn’t know you wanted to get a conversation about marriage going.”</p><p>“Immediately? We dated for almost two years.”</p><p>“Yeah, right out of college, when everyone’s moving around and no one knows where or even if they’re going to get a job. And there was six months of long distance in the middle of that.”</p><p>It was Minghao’s job that had taken him overseas for six months, not Junhui’s, but he doesn’t say that.</p><p>“All the more reason for a little stability,” he says. He’s probably said it before, but if Minghao wants to run through their old arguments, Junhui will dutifully provide his half of the story again.</p><p>“How can you call moving in ‘stability’? Moving is such a pain and both of us would have to get rid of stuff and probably buy new stuff. Then totally recalibrate our routines to accommodate each other.” Minghao sighs, biting the inside of his lip for a moment. “It’s a lot of change. A lot of <em>instability</em>. What if we fought? Or,” he lets out a pained laugh, “what if we broke up? You know, exactly like we did. It’d be me without a home, completely at your mercy while you had all the…the <em>stability </em>of staying exactly where you were.”</p><p>Junhui blinks. They weren’t the sort to argue in paragraphs. He’s not sure Minghao’s ever laid it out quite like that. If he had, if the breadcrumbs where there to piece together, then Junhui had missed it. This sounds a lot less like a lack of investment in their relationship and a lot more like fear.</p><p>“But…that’s what couples do,” he says. It feels lame. If Minghao’s flat expression is anything to go by, it feels that way to him too. “I just mean…at some point we’ve got to trust each other, right? And move forward. We can always get a new apartment entirely, rather you moving in with me if that makes you feel better.”</p><p>Minghao just stares some more. It takes him a minute to realize why.</p><p>“Oh,” Junhui says. “I mean, we <em>could have</em> done that.” He takes a long drag of his hot chocolate just to hide behind the cup. He shifts on his feet a little. Minghao always was better at existing in silence. Junhui always feels the need to fill it, but the ball isn’t in his court anymore. He’d put his foot in his mouth enough, it was time to stay strong and wait it out.</p><p>When Minghao finally does speak, it’s with a deep sigh first, one that makes his shoulders rise up around his chin and fall back down. “But why the rush? Moving in, getting married, beginning the rest of our lives together. Does it have to happen all right now?”</p><p>Beginning the rest of our lives together. That’s always how Junhui phrased it. But aren’t you eager to begin the rest of our lives together? It felt like all the adventures they could have were just waiting around the corner, held at bay by Minghao’s refusal to start their life as a couple. To hear the sentiment echoed back at him now, in that tired kind of tone, hurts far deeper than he ever imagined. This was always the end of the argument. It was the point where they stalled out every time. But isn’t that what you want? he’d ask. Don’t you want to spend the rest of our lives together?</p><p>Evidently not.</p><p>“I wasn’t suggesting we get married, like, tomorrow. I just meant it as something to talk about in the future.” That’s hardly the most salient of Minghao’s points, but it’s the easiest one to reply to, so that’s what he does.</p><p>Minghao turns and takes a few steps away. For a moment, Junhui thinks he’s just going to keep marching, right through the parking lot, right down the road, until the little black blob of his coat disappears from sight entirely. And that’ll be the end. They won’t speak to each other. They won’t be friends. They’ll be worse off than they were just a few hours ago, with their lonely silence.</p><p>But he doesn’t keep walking. He stops just at the edge of the light streaming from the glass doors behind them. Junhui can see the little clouds of his breath trailing up and away. He doesn’t know what to do, so he waits.</p><p>His fingers are almost completely numb by now. The hot chocolate has cooled enough that there’s no heat to be leeched from the cup just by holding it. He swallows down the last of it and drops it in the trash can nearby so he can shove his hands into his pockets. At the sound of the little lid on the trashcan swinging closes, Minghao spins around, eyes wide. Junhui freezes. Was the cup recyclable? Should he…reach in and get it out?</p><p>Minghao swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before letting out a breathless chuckle. “Sorry. I…I thought you were leaving.”</p><p>“Leaving?” Why would he leave?</p><p>“Yeah, like maybe you got tired of waiting.”</p><p>That feels like one of those statements that could mean a million different things, so he just gives a little shake of his head and offers a tiny smile. “Nope, not leaving. Just putting my trash away like a good citizen.”</p><p>Minghao walks over, finishes off his drink and tosses the cup in as well. He glances around before seemingly gathering himself enough to respond. “You always used to say that to me: The beginning of the rest of our lives. But what does that mean? Hadn’t our lives together already begun? Didn’t those two years matter?”</p><p>“Well, yeah, I just mean—”</p><p>“Then why rush it? I know it was hard at times, living apart, struggling with new jobs. But that struggle is part of it all. We have the rest of our lives to live together. Shouldn’t we take time to savor the fun things about the way our lives are right now? The challenges?”</p><p>“So we just never move in together? For the sake of enjoying living apart?” He’s trying not to get combative. Once it slips into a fight and they start just saying things to counter each other, it’s all over.</p><p>Minghao scowls at him. “See that’s the problem right there. I say, let’s take some time, and you say, so we’re never moving in. And those aren’t the same thing.”</p><p>He takes a deep breath. His ears are painfully cold and they pop as he does so. They really do need to get back inside soon. He thinks about everything Seungcheol had told him when he’d complained about his fights with Minghao, back when they were becoming a more regular thing. Maybe you’re not listening, he’d suggest. Maybe you’re not making your concerns clear. But it just frustrated him. He was listening. The problem was that he and Minghao had entirely different mindsets. There’s no reconciling mindsets, he thought, and realized things were heading for an end.</p><p>“I understand that you want to wait,” he says slowly, thinking each word out carefully before letting into the night air. “And I understand that doesn’t mean you never want to move in. I think…to me, I was excited to move in because it felt like…solidifying our relationship. Or verification that we both wanted this to last a long time, to be permanent. But you didn’t seem excited about it. And even if things were good as they were, if you weren’t excited to move forward…it just didn’t seem to spell good things for the future. We can’t stay the same forever.” He appreciates the patience Minghao showed him in letting him stumble through that with such care.</p><p>“It sounds dumb,” Seungcheol had once told him, “And Jeonghan would laugh in my face if he heard me say this, but active listening really is important. I hear what you’re saying, that kind of thing. It’s important, really. Jeonghan does it too, he just doesn’t use that label. Don’t just counter. Tell him what you’re hearing and how that compares to what you’re thinking.”</p><p>He hadn’t wanted to hear it then. He was too tired of half-hearted arguments and the awkward silences between him and Minghao. They weren’t spending that much time together at that point, as nearly every casual after work dinner dissolved into unspoken hurts and under the breath comebacks. Naturally, being the crux of their argument, Minghao still had his own apartment, one he claimed was really too small for two people to comfortably hang out in, so he would retreat, disappearing for days to his little sanctuary. It left Junhui bitter.</p><p>Eight months was a long time, however. Eight months was long enough to get some space from the moment, to think it back over. Eight months was long enough to miss someone so badly, it was hard to breathe sometimes.</p><p>It was long enough to make a better effort.</p><p>Minghao looks mildly surprised before his brow furrows. He takes a step closer, eyes dancing over Junhui’s face. “You think I’m not excited for our relationship?” He's close enough now to reach out, hand seemingly moving without any conscious thought as it landed on Junhui’s chest, right above his heart and absently toyed with the stitching. Minghao held his gaze as he continued, “I’m so excited. But I don’t want to rush through life, always trying to get to the next thing because before you know it, your life will be over.”</p><p>"I get that," he says. "I hear what you're saying. But I'm worried that you not wanting to move in is...indicative? Of something bigger, maybe?" He's not sure when this conversation switched from the past to the present, like the last eight months haven't happened at all, like they're still together. He has no complaints.</p><p>They’re very close now, just a few inches between them. Junhui reaches out and catches both of Minghao’s hands, pulling them close to his chest to keep them warm. His long hands are cold, but they fit well in Junhui’s grasp.</p><p>"Maybe," Minghao says with a tiny nod. Junhui swallows the bit of hurt that affirmation causes. He won't deny it though, he feels heard and it feels nice. He'll have to thank Seungcheol later. "But I think change is always scary and maybe you need to trust me to tell you when I'm ready?" He sounds unsure, like he's testing the idea out for the first time.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asks, unable to come up with anything better as his mind is occupied with the way the light reflects off of Minghao’s eyes and the way the tip of his nose is red in the cold. His heart is beating so harshly he almost surprised the fabric of his jacket isn’t twitching with reverberations.</p><p>“Yeah,” Minghao says, voice barely above a whisper as he breath curls into the air across Junhui’s face. “But I’m excited,” he adds.</p><p>“I’m excited too,” he says, letting the words hang for just a minute between them before closing the gap and letting their lips press together. Minghao’s lips are warm and dry, maybe even a bit chapped. It’s nice.</p><p>They fit together as well as ever. It’s still instinct who tilts which way. Their hands are bundled between them, pressed in the warmth of their bodies.</p><p>Minghao pulls back just slightly, letting out a little snort that sends a puff of hot air along Junhui’s chin. He leans back to meet Junhui’s eyes.</p><p>“I think we were supposed to have more of a conversation before we got back to that part.”</p><p>“Probably,” Junhui agrees. There’s only the taste of hot chocolate in his mouth though, not any hint of regret.</p><p>Minghao whacks him weakly, Junhui barely feeling it through the puff of his jacket. “I mean it. We need to talk more before we jump back in to anything. Otherwise we’re just going to do it all over again. And I—” He cuts off, eyes darting away quickly. Junhui gets it. He can’t go through it again either. They’ll have to be careful. There won’t be a third shot.</p><p>“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks instead. He can’t help but add, “Next year, that is.”</p><p>Minghao rolls his eyes. “You’re not funny.”</p><p>“I think I am.”</p><p>“You think spit takes are funny. You clearly don’t have any sense of humor.”</p><p>A chorus of shouts sound from inside, a collective rising in the excitement that draws both of their attention. “We should go in,” Junhui says. “It sounds like it’s almost time for the countdown.”</p><p>“Yes because we all know the year won’t start if we don’t physically count it into existence.”</p><p>“You’re no fun,” he pouts. He has just long enough to start regretting it—maybe they’re not back to a stage where teasing can be taken lightheartedly—before Minghao rolls his eyes and steps away, dragging Junhui back towards the doorway.</p><p>There’s sixty-nine seconds until the New Year when they get inside. Everyone’s standing in clusters around the lobby, eyes glued to the TV. At sixty seconds, big gold numbers come on screen, rotating through the countdown.</p><p>It’s an awkwardly long amount of time to count as a group, but the chant picks up more and more voices the lower the number gets.</p><p>“I’m not doing anything,” Minghao says suddenly, pressing close to be heard over the counting. As the only two people wearing coats, they probably look stupid, but he can’t bring himself to mind. He makes eye contact with Hansol and Jihoon as he looks over the crowd, both of them nodding happily when they see his hand clasped in Minghao’s.</p><p>“What?” he asks back, distracted.</p><p>“Next year. I have the day off. So maybe we could get breakfast and some coffee and talk about things.”</p><p>“Really?” He can’t keep the hope out of his voice as he turns away from the TV entirely. The counting fades to the background. Minghao smiles up at him, just that little quirk of the corner of his lips he does when he’s pleased.</p><p>“Really,” he says. He leans forward, taking Junhui’s face in his hands and pressing up to kiss him as the space around them explodes with cheers and fireworks on TV.</p><p>They miss counting in the New Year, but it comes anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thoughts?? If you've got the time, comments and kudos are much appreciated, especially because this is my first go at SVT!  I'm hoping to get an NCT one-shot up next week, so subscribe if you're interested.</p><p>Stay healthy, everyone!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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